


Put On Your Dancing Shoes

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Foxtrot [70]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, The Dollhouse - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 16:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6292126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: <i>Stargate: Atlantis, any, A Ballerina's Tale.</i> New SGC recruit Andre Ford wants to follow in his cousin Aiden's footsteps and learns that at the SGC, anything is possible. Anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put On Your Dancing Shoes

This was it. A dream come true. Andre had waited for this day since he first heard about Stargate Command, about Atlantis. When the soldiers in the uniforms showed up on Grandma's doorstep to finally tell her the truth about what happened to Cousin Aiden, Andre knew what he had to do. When he grew up, he was going to join the marines, and he was going to qualify for Stargate Command, and he was going to explore the universe, and one day, he was going to bring Cousin Aiden home, for Grandma and for Cousin Lara. They'd both been older than him, but he'd always been awed by how cool and tough Aiden was, and when Aiden had joined the Marines, Andre had been as proud of him as he would have been of his own brother (if he'd had one).  
  
So when he got the call from General Mitchell, that he was in, he answered as smoothly and professionally as possible, then hung up the phone and did a crazy dance around the living room (and totally ignored the way his roommates were laughing at him). He kept reminding himself this was just the first step, that he'd have to go through additional evaluations to qualify for a gate team, but he was in. He was part of Stargate Command.  
  
So he showed up bright and early for orientation. There would be a tour of the Mountain first, then the Alpha Site, and one of the battle cruisers. And if he made a gate team, then he'd get to go to an alien planet beyond the Alpha Site and to Atlantis herself before they stationed him somewhere long-term. Andre wasn't the only one who was early - there was a whole crowd of marines and airmen just like him.  
  
When the clock struck eight, the security airman checked their names against a list and led them past the checkpoint. Major Vega was the one who met them at the elevator and led them into the heart of the mountain itself.  
  
Which was just a military base. Stark cement walls and floors. Colored lines to help people get to different departments. Exposed pipes overhead. SFs standing guard outside seemingly random rooms. Civilians ambling past in disorderly groups, chattering and gesticulating and waving their data pads. The coolest part hands down was seeing a team come through the gate.  
  
They saw labs, more labs, the armory, the conference room, the locker room, the gate room, and ended in the mess hall. Chow there was pretty generic. The new recruits were seated close together, and most of them were listening while Vega imparted hard-earned wisdom from her time on Atlantis, but Andre was distracted, searching for the heroes he'd heard about all through school - Daniel Jackson or Samantha Carter or Cameron Mitchell; John Sheppard or Evan Lorne or Rodney McKay. None of them were eating lunch, though.  
  
Andre perked back up when he heard "training hall". Vega was telling them they'd get to see current SGC soldiers getting put through their paces.  
  
"Remember," she said as she gathered up her lunch tray, "this is the SGC. Anything is possible."  
  
Andre pleaded to the universe for Teal'c or Ronon or Teyla or someone cool to be leading drills.  
  
He had no idea what to think when they approached the training hall in neat lines and heard classical music.  
  
Vega led them into the training hall so they could arrange themselves in neat rows against the wall and stay out of everyone else's way, like they'd done in every other room. Andre was pretty sure he wasn't the only one who was damn confused.  
  
Because...ballet.

A man in sweats and a tank top and wearing black sparkly ballet shoes was dancing with a girl who was wearing green BDU pants and a black t-shirt. Other soldiers were scattered around the mats and watching intently. The man was wearing dog tags, but he didn't look like a soldier, not with the pink streaks in his hair and his eyeliner and -  
  
Holy moly spiky dark hair and a black wristband. Was that John Sheppard? The real John Sheppard?  
  
Some of the other recruits around Andre were shifting uneasily, casting curious looks at Vega, but she was watching the proceedings with aplomb.  
  
One of the soldiers - younger than most of the others - raised his hand.  
  
"Sir - I mean, Traci, this is entertaining and all -"  
  
Might-be-Sheppard paused, hands on the girl's waist, cocked his head, and the music cut off. What the hell was that? Ancient tech, maybe?  
  
"On your feet, soldier."  
  
The young man - he was barely older than Andre - climbed to his feet. Might-be-Sheppard (had the soldier called him  _Traci?_ ) beckoned him onto the mats.  
  
"You're on an alien planet. Hostile Wraith darts are firing overhead. You need to hoist your teammate into the jumper parked on the ledge above you. You have seconds before she's swept up in the culling beam. She's all the way over here. You're there. Save her."  
  
The girl took a running leap at the soldier. He tried to catch her. He fumbled her, righted her in a surprising show of strength, and they both collapsed to the mat in a heap.  
  
"And you're dead," Might-be-Sheppard barked. "Both of you. Hostile Wraith food."  
  
"Colonel Sheppard," the girl said, heaving herself up onto her knees. "With all due respect, sir, but _ow_."  
  
"Maybe Sergeant Smartass should have trained a little harder for the dangers of the Pegasus Galaxy," Sheppard said, and Andre was so confused. That was Sheppard? _The_ John Sheppard?  
  
He stepped back. "Let's show him how it's done, Captain Parwal."  
  
The girl nodded, shook herself out.  
  
One of the other soldiers shouted, "Hostile dart!"  
  
And Parwal took off running. She leaped, and Sheppard caught her, hoisted her over his head in a perfectly smooth motion, like they were dancing, and launched her onto an upper platform. She landed, rolled, extended an arm, and then Sheppard was up on the platform beside her, and he landed gracefully.  
  
"And that, boys and girls, is why you should try harder in ballet," Sheppard said. "Now, are you going to keep being smartasses like Sergeant Ramon over there, or are you going to listen to Traci?"  
  
"Sir, listen to Traci, sir!" the soldiers chorused.  
  
And Sheppard's sharp, commanding mien melted away, and he grinned, kicked his legs like, well, a little girl, and clapped his hands. "Awesome! Now get on your feet, and let's dance."  
  
The other soldiers climbed to their feet, and Sheppard cocked his head again, and the music came back on.  
  
As the soldiers arranged themselves in rows and organized themselves into pairs, Vega led them out of the training hall.  
  
She was grinning. "Like I said, anything is possible. Now come on shooting gallery's this way. You can finally get your hands on something more dangerous than an intar."  
  
Andre fell into line behind the other recruits, but he couldn't help glancing over his shoulder.  
  
That night, when he got home, he called Grandma.  
  
"How are you, sugar?"  
  
"Pretty good," he said. "Hey listen, can you send me my dancing shoes?"


End file.
